


“Do you ever feel guilty about coming back?”

by misfitcutie



Category: Ghostbusters (Comics), Ghostbusters (Movies 1984-1989), Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, ehhh i love torturing this poor guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 14:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14046054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misfitcutie/pseuds/misfitcutie
Summary: I got caught up on the IDW comics. The scene Egon shared with Donatello really struck me. Which feels weird to write considering he’s an anthropomorphic turtle.Anyway, this is also a small homage to theTank series by Deanniehere on AO3 which gave me support when I needed it the most.





	“Do you ever feel guilty about coming back?”

Egon woke up early from his dreams. They weren't nightmares anymore, just unsettling feelings. It was almost six in the morning. He sat on a flimsy folding chair on the flat roof of the firehouse. A few cars drove by, either for a morning shift or returning from a late one. It was still dark out, but the horizon was beginning to glow a light blue. Fog rolled between the higher buildings. A gust of wind rustled his hair and blew his jacket open; a chill ran down his legs. He didn't plan to stay up here long but he couldn't resist. He was drawn up here, but he wasn't sure what by.  
  
He pulled his coat close and stood up. He walked closer to the edge to get a better view of the quiet street below. He mulled over the dreams he had since... Since he came back.  
  
His brow furrowed. It had been different the second time. Release from Limbo was what most would call a blessing. This time he'd been agitated since he was allowed to breathe the polluted air of New York again. It was familiar. It was home. But it was vile and it was wrong. His back ached in a way he used to ignore. The city was now too loud, his co-workers talked too much. He became used to the sound of silence in death.  
  
His dreams usually started there in that place. Open, free and giving. It was tranquil and all knowing. It gave him everything he needed, but he realised he wanted nothing. Then the space would contract and suffocate him until it faded into memories.  
  
Gozer had always been a prime figure in his nightmares. The lightning from its fingertips left them all with faded scars, both physical and mental. It wasn't the first time he thought he would die, but it was the most traumatic. They had almost been thrown off the building before they had the chance to fight. Winston saved them, he found his footing and pulled them from the edge.  
  
The pieces of his dream fell back together. The shock. Falling back onto concrete. The pack pushing into his back leaving him bruised. His legs dangling over Central Park West. Peter's fingers dug into his side keeping him close- but not close enough.  
  
The building fell out from under him. In absolute silence, the only feeling he had was from the adrenaline in his veins. The space opened back up into serenity. He closed his eyes and waited for the crash. A hypnic jerk violently ripped him from the ending.  
  
He was pissed. He just wanted to know the feeling. The fall was almost freeing. He was so close. He was so very close.  
  
Egon almost choked when the air was forced from his lungs. He fell backward onto the tar and chat of the roof. There was an arm tight against his diaphragm, fingers digging into his side. Adrenaline pumped again. He tried to fight back but his shoes slid against the gravel. When the hand loosened on its own, he twisted around to see who assaulted him.  
  
"Peter?"  
  
He was bewildered. Peter's face was shockingly pale. It was rare to see terror creased in his features. Egon felt Peter's eyes dart across his face before he spoke in a strangled whisper.  
  
"Are you trying to become street pizza?"  
  
Egon turned back to look out at the city. He was inches from the row of bricks that bordered the edge of the building. He swallowed hard now realizing what he had almost done. He had taken the step up without thought. He looked back to Peter who still had an iron grip on the back of his coat.  
  
"Can we go inside now?"


End file.
